"And that is also beautiful, and that is also to be blest," she murmured.
"What? These vicious songs?" asked Juventinus, dreading her reply.
Myrrha shook her head—
"No! all is well, all is pure. Beauty comes from God. Friend, what are you afraid of? To love, one must be unspeakably free!... Fear absolutely nothing. You are still ignorant what happiness life can give!"
She drew a deep sigh and added—
"And what happiness death gives too!"
It was their last talk together. Myrrha lay in bed for several days, motionless and silent, without opening her eyes. She may have suffered much, for her brows would sometimes contract with pain; but a gentle smile of resignation would follow; not a groan, not a complaint escaped the closed lips.
Once, at midnight, she called Arsinoë, who was sitting beside her. The sick girl spoke with difficulty; she asked, without opening her eyes—
"Is it yet day?"
"No, night still," answered Arsinoë, "but the sun will soon rise."